because in the end, we're all soldiers
by seekingtomorrow
Summary: Cato is eleven when he first meets Echo, twelve when he teams up with her for Career training, and fifteen when he watches her get dragged off for the 71st Annual Hunger Games. An exploration of Cato and his best friend in 8 parts.


**because in the end, we're all soldiers**

**SUMMARY: **Cato figured he was always a little too curious for his own good.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**So I'm reposting this because the first time I did it, it didn't do well. I got rid of the multi-chap thing and just kept it as one giant oneshot.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anything except for Echo. And Alvara.

* * *

**Eleven.**

Cato remembers Career training when he was eleven. He remembers the stale smell of the weapons room and the wicked gleam of stick-straight swords and curved battleaxes.

Cato also remembers a little girl, just the same age as him, in his Career class. She wasn't very big or very strong and she didn't look particularly intimidating. The only advantage she had over the other Careers was speed.

Cato remembers watching mock-battles. He beat almost everyone, of course. She, on the other hand, was lucky if she escaped without cuts and bruises.

One day, he watched her as she lost a sparring match, hitting the ground with an awful amount of force. Her sparring partner, instead of helping her up, mocked her for her lack of skill and finesse.

Cato remembers watching as this shy little slip of a girl bite back.

~_Becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~_

"Pathetic."

The word resonates. Despite it's quiet delivery, it seems to fill the spacious room.

"What did you say?"

"I said, you're pathetic."

Cato unconsciously takes a step back, his eyes flitting back and forth. He isn't involved in this little skirmish, nor does he want to be. Looking around to the other Careers, he swears some of them are taking bets on the outcome of the brewing fight. He doesn't know why they bother. It's obvious the girl isn't going to win.

"Pathetic? Is that the best you can come up with, you illiterate buffoon?"

Cato cocks an eyebrow. So the kitten has claws, he thinks to himself. She always seemed so shy, but…

"At least I'm not weak!" The girl's sparring partner is getting visibly agitated. He flexes his arms a bit, as if to emphasize his point.

"I'd rather be weak than stupid," the girl replies, her tone cool and collected, "and unfortunately for you, you're an example of both."

The boy cracks his knuckles ominously. "Listen girl—"

"Echo," the girl interrupts, "my name is Echo."

"Whatever," the boy shrugs. "Listen, Echo. I don't know who you think you are, but let's be clear about one thing. You're the worst Career in this class. Your grandfather may be a Victor, but that doesn't mean you have any of his skills. If I were you—which I'm very glad I am not—I wouldn't run my mouth off all the time. So why don't you give up on the Career thing before you get hurt?"

There's absolute silence in the room. Cato eyes the two engaged in a battle of words. The boy is quite a bit older, maybe 13, and he has at least a good twenty pounds on Echo.

Echo locks eyes with the boy. There's an intake of breath as everyone waits nervously to see her reaction.

"Well look at that," she sneers, "the buffoon can speak."

The boy loses his temper and it looks like he's going to hit her when—

"Hey, stop it."

Cato is startled by the sound of his own voice.

"You want me to stop it?" The large boy snarls at Cato, all pretense of control gone. "She deserves it."

"No, no I totally agree with you." Cato says passively. "It's just that there are probably better ways of getting her back and I'm sure you don't want to get caught by Brutus."

The boy pauses and strokes his chin thoughtfully. "You're right. Hm. Seems like I owe you one." He claps a hand on Cato's back that nearly causes his knees to buckle as he swaggers off.

The crowd disperses, muttering disappointedly. Cato is left with Echo.

Cato clears his throat awkwardly. "Maybe next time you should learn to watch your temper."

Without missing a beat, she retorts. "And maybe next time, you should learn to mind your own business."

"I was just trying to help you."

"Help me do what? I can stand up for myself, thank you very much."

"Why are you so mean?"

Echo opens her mouth to respond, but another voice beats her to it.

"Echo? Are you ready to go?" A beautiful girl with dark flowing hair and bright green eyes stands near Echo, an arm outstretched.

"And who is your friend?" The girl continues, smiling elegantly.

"His name is Cato and he's not my friend. Just some guy who likes to bother people."

"Hey!" Cato yells indignantly.

"Oh just ignore her, Cato. Echo can be abrasive, but she's just shy. My name is Alvara." The girl—or Alvara—says.

"She's my sister, so don't get any ideas." Echo hisses.

"Echo, let's go." Alvara takes her by the arm and leads her out. "And it was very nice to meet you, Cato!"

"Bye…" Cato's voice trails off.

Alvara is beautiful and kind. Cato thinks he's in love.

Although he can't help but to admire Echo's spunk.

**Twelve.**

When Cato is twelve, he attends his first reaping. He recalls the feeling of terror and the thick bile in his throat that felt like it was choking him.

His utter relief at not being reaped always felt euphoric. Of course he would feel bad for the poor guy who was reaped, but it's not as if it was Cato's fault.

From then on, Cato put his heart into Career training. If he was reaped, he wanted to win. He would accept nothing less.

Cato can call to mind the various mock-Games that the mentors, particularly Brutus, put them through. They would use paint guns instead of actual weapons. Anyone who got hit in a vital area was "dead." Cato enjoyed these simulations; the heady adrenaline rush and the acrid smell of splattered paint were almost like an aphrodisiac for the twelve-year-old.

He remembers the many alliances he made with the other Careers to win the mock-Games. He broods over the ones that turned their backs on him, betraying him in order to achieve their own aims. He pays silent homage to the ones that were honourable, the ones in which they parted amicably.

Most of all, Cato dwells upon the alliance he made with Echo all those years ago.

_~becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~_

Cato creeps around the large wooden boxes. This time around, simulation is taking place in what seems to be an abandoned warehouse with lots of empty crates hanging around; it's the perfect place for hiding.

Just as he nears a crate, he hears a subtle clicking. Someone is here. He quickly swings up his own weapon to eye level and scans the perimeter, poised to shoot.

"I won't shoot if you don't." Cato declares quietly, hoping he doesn't attract too much unwanted attention.

"Fine." A slight figure jumps down from the top of the crate. It's Echo and she has paint splatters on her shoulders and legs.

"Do you—do you want to create an alliance or something?" Cato asks.

"Well, it doesn't really look like I have any choice." Echo shrugs, indifferent.

"It would probably be good for you if we made an alliance. You never win by yourself anyways." The words are out of Cato's mouth before he can stop them.

Thankfully, Echo doesn't say anything. She just glares at him as she grabs him by the elbow and drags him into the dark confines of the empty crate she was previously perched atop.

"Okay blondie. What's your master plan?" Echo teases. With one arm cocked on her hips, and the other cradling the large gun, she almost looks frightening. Cato doesn't tell her this.

"I say we do whatever you were previously doing." Cato puts forth.

"And what was I doing?" She asks, her voice a mixture of inquisitive curiosity and incredulity.

"Uhh…lying on top of a crate and waiting to pick off anyone that got too close."

"Hmm," Echo ponders. "Not bad, but we're not going to get anything done with that."

"Why not?" Cato questions. "It worked with me. You nearly got me out."

"It only worked with you because you happened to get close," Echo reasons. "We need something shrewder."

"We could trick them." Cato offers.

"I knew there was a reason I wanted to ally with you." A wide grin spreads over Echo's face. Cato blushes. In that moment, she looked just like Alvara.

Quickly recovering, Cato jests, "You only allied yourself with me because you had to."

"Oh shush. Anyways, I'll be the one to go out and trick them. If you go, they'll get suspicious."

"Why?"

Echo scoffs. "You're one of the best Careers in this group. If you go out asking for help, they're not going to believe you. If it's me…well…they might feel bad or something."

"And how will you trick them?"

Echo replies with an evil grin, giving Cato slight goose bumps. If she weren't so scrawny, he'd be a little worried. She then proceeds to smear the paint on her shoulders down to her chest.

"What're you doing?" Cato grabs her hand.

Echo snatches her hand back. "They need to believe I'm in danger of getting tagged in the heart. Now, you wait here. I'm going to find some victims—I mean other Careers—and trick them into believing I found you."

Cato nods.

"I'll be right back. When I say, 'I see him, he's right over there!' start shooting. I will too."

Cato waits. And when he hears the codeword, he jumps out of his hiding spot and shoots all the enemy careers, covering them in bright yellow paint. Echo trips a few of them and shoots them in the face and chest while they're down.

At the end of the day, they don't win, but they're commended for their tremendous efforts. Cato is praised for his accurate shooting and Echo for her surprising use of strategy and cunning.

"You know what, Cato?"

"Hm?"

"You're not that bad. I think you and I make a good team."

**Thirteen.**

Cato is thirteen when he experiences heartbreak for the first time.

For the longest time, he's had a huge crush on Alvara. He always stays late after Career training to see Alvara pick Echo up. If he's lucky, Alvara will make conversation with him while Echo gets her things. Well, the conversation is somewhat one-sided. Alvara will ask how his day went, and Cato will respond with monosyllabic answers.

In fact, if there's one thing that Cato has learned from Echo, it's how to be cunning. He purposely situates himself near Echo so they're constantly partnered up and he can badger her about her family life, and in particular, her sister.

To his immense surprise, Cato finds himself enjoying the time spent with Echo. Despite her attitude (which isn't at all as bad as he thought), she's fun to be around and her criticism of others is worth a good laugh. She's never truly cruel, just blunt.

Cato becomes quite well versed in the mystery that is Echo. He is told that she comes from a Career family, her being the youngest of five children. Alvara is the middle child.

Echo's grandfather was the Victor of the First Hunger Games, which is why there is so much pressure for all the children and grandchildren to follow his example. Echo confesses that she is the "black sheep" of her family as she is more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than the victory that comes with the Hunger Games.

Out of her entire family, nearly every Tribute has won the games they were reaped for. When Cato presses for more details, Echo ends up divulging her hatred of Career training. He doesn't ask about her family anymore.

When the weather becomes grey and cold, the reapings take place.

No matter how hard he tries to forget it, the look on Echo's face when her sister volunteered to participate in the Sixty-Ninth Annual Hunger Games will stay fixed in Cato's memory.

_~becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~_

After Alvara volunteers, she is escorted off to a room where she awaits goodbyes from her friends and loved ones.

"Why—why would she volunteer like that?" For the first time, Echo looks lost. With her large hazel-green eyes and dark hair neatly plaited, she could pass for a ten year-old.

"I don't know," Cato replies in what he hopes in a consoling voice.

"Is she stupid or something?" Echo stares down at her shaking hands, not meeting Cato's eyes.

"No," Cato murmurs, "she was volunteering for a friend, I think."

"Then she was being stupid." Echo concludes, in a voice that sounds a lot more composed than she looks.

"Echo," Cato opens his mouth, but can't bring himself to say anything comforting.

"Cato?" Echo looks up at him with all the innocence of a small child. "Can you come with me to say goodbye to her?"

"Why?" Cato asks, astonished. He thought that Echo would want some alone time with her sister. Plus, he wanted to speak with Alvara alone as well. If this was the last time he was going to see her, he wanted to confess.

"I don't think I can do this alone." Echo admits softly.

Cato relents, not because of Echo, but because he needs an excuse to see Alvara one more time. He nearly jumps when he feels a small hand slip into his. He looks over at Echo, waiting to see some sort of reaction, but her eyes are lowered. Grasping Echo's hand in an act of solidarity, he all but drags her to the slate gray building.

When he gets to the shiny wooden door, his fingers poised to grab the handle, the door swings open.

"Whoops, sorry." A girl stands there with a tear streaked face and a sodden handkerchief. Looking at her, Cato realizes she was the girl that Alvara volunteered for. "Are you hoping to speak with Alvara? She's just in here. I'll be out of your way." She sidesteps Cato and Echo, sparing the latter with an apologetic smile.

"Bitch."

The word is whispered, but it does nothing to dampen its effect. Cato nervously glances over to Echo, only to see her glaring at the door in front of them.

"Are you angry at that girl?" Cato inquires.

"At the one Alvara volunteered for?" Echo's eyes flicker over to meet Cato's. "No. Not at her."

"Who're you mad at, then?"

"My stupid sister." Her hand clenches tightly around Cato's. Realizing that he was still holding on, he quickly let go.

"Are you going to knock on the door or what?" Echo questions angrily. "We don't exactly have all the time in the world right now."

Cato raises a fist and raps—once, twice—and then the door opens. Alvara stands there, her eyes bloodshot, and shoulders hunched.

"Oh. It's you two. Come in." She ushers them into the small room and closes the door with a quiet _click _behind them.

Cato ventures into the room. It's plain. Cheery buttercup yellow walls, a window with sheer white curtains and flowery furniture don't make up for the dismal feeling that settles over him. He plops down on one of the gaudy loveseats, right next to Echo. Alvara occupies an armchair facing them. Tears start forming in her eyes and cascade down her face.

"I'm so glad you were able to come—"she starts off.

"Oh save the manners for the interview." Echo spits. "Maybe if you act nice, you'll get some sponsors."

Cato sees Alvara recoil slightly and decides to step in before Echo can cause more damage.

"Uhh…Alvara, I don't know what to say that will make it better but I have faith in you." He stammers lamely.

"Faith isn't going to make her win, Cato!" Echo jumps up violently. "Don't be a fool," she continues in a softer voice.

"What's the matter with you?" Cato yells, losing all pretense of maturity he was trying to highlight. "Your sister is going to the Hunger Games and all you can do is prance around and act like a child?"

"Shut up, Cato." Echo's tone becomes dangerous, but Cato isn't worried. If she decides to attack him, she won't stand much of a chance anyways. Not only is Cato a great deal stronger, but there are Peacekeepers all over the place.

"Can you two please stop arguing?" Alvara's plea is quiet and soothing. "I would very much prefer it if you refrained from fighting all the time."

"He started it!" Echo argues.

Cato has to use every bit of restraint to keep from shouting back or worse, hitting her. Echo may be a girl much smaller than he may, but she was mean and deserved it.

"Echo," Alvara warns, "don't."

"Yeah Echo," Cato mimics, "don't."

"You two are so annoying." Echo sighs noisily. "I don't even know why I'm here."

"You're here because you have to say goodbye to me." Alvara explains.

"I generally make it a rule not to say goodbye to idiots." Echo shoots back.

"I'll miss you, Echo." Alvara takes Echo's hand into her own. Cato isn't surprised with her patience. Growing up with Echo, he supposes, must give you a lot of restraint when it comes to her attitude.

"Well bully for you," Echo baits. "I don't miss idiots."

"Echo, aren't you going to say goodbye to your sister?" Cato proposes. Truthfully, he has no idea what spurned on her little temper tantrum.

"Bye," Echo recites tonelessly.

A beat of silence passes. Finally, Alvara speaks up and this time, she doesn't sound so calm.

"Echo, I'm leaving," she presses. "You'll probably never see me again."

Echo doesn't respond.

"If I die, you'll regret parting on bad terms."

Echo continues ignoring her.

"Don't be such a child, Echo."

Echo glares into space.

"Fine." Alvara drops Echo's hand. "If you have nothing nice to say—more like nothing to say at all—then go. I would like to spend my last moments in District 2 with a family who loves me."

Echo makes no move to leave.

Alvara loses it. She drops her head into her hands and starts sobbing loudly. Between gulps of air, Cato hears her lamenting.

"Can you at least act like you care?"

"Act like I care?" Echo repeats. "Act. Like. I. Care." Her voice grows higher with each word.

Cato edges away from her.

"You're the one who doesn't care! You're the one who decided to be all-noble and volunteer for some girl! Do I not matter to you? How can you just leave me all alone? Don't you care at all? If you cared, you wouldn't be doing this! So don't act like it's me that doesn't care!" At the end of this, Echo visibly deflates and sits back. She gazes at Alvara with the sort of disdain she usually reserves for the people in their Career class.

Alvara speaks lowly and icily. "You don't know what you're talking about, Echo. Don't act like you know everything. You're only thirteen."

Echo plows on, undeterred by Alvara. "If age means wisdom, then we're all doomed."

"Can you please stop it with the 'I'm so much better than everyone' routine? You're only going to drive everyone away with that," Alvara beseeches.

Cato realizes he better jump in before the fighting turns physical. "Err...Alvara," he addresses the beautiful girl in front of him, "Echo and I came here to say goodbye and that we hope you win the Hunger Games."

"Cato, that's very kind of you." Alvara smiles prettily at him and he swears he blushes several shades of red.

"Yeah, Cato," Echo studies him, "very kind."

Alvara turns to Echo, remorse adorning her features. "Echo, I'm sorry I was so rude. You just don't understand why I had to do this."

Echo makes no indication of having heard her apology, but perks up. "And why did you have to do this?"

"The girl that was initially reaped," Alvara discloses, "was one of my good friends."

"I knew it!" Echo screeches.

"Echo. Alvara's talking." Cato gives Echo a light shove, only to receive a sharp rap on the shoulder in return.

"Anyways," Alvara continues. "She was very much in love with a boy and they were engaged. They're going to get married quite soon. I couldn't let her go off and fight in the Games, you understand that, don't you Echo?"

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

"So you thought it was perfectly okay to volunteer for your engaged friend and leave behind your family?" Echo interrogates.

"She has family, too." Alvara defends. "You're being selfish."

"So are you," Echo counters. "You probably never even thought about me when you volunteered."

"Is this about you now?" Alvara asks her expression furious. "Echo you are so immature. This is not about you and it's never been about you. This is about something bigger than you. I'm sacrificing myself because my best friend is in love."

"I don't get it," Echo says, deadpan. "And I probably never will. Love is stupid."

"No, you're stupid." Cato pipes up.

Both girls turn to face him.

"She's being a good person, trying to help her friend like that. You don't know what it's like because you have no friends." He adds on, helpfully.

Echo stands up rather forcefully. "You are both idiots." She strides toward the door, but at the last moment, whips around. She runs at Alvara, and for a second, Cato thinks she's going to attack her, but she doesn't. Echo gives Alvara a wordless hug and with a dry sob, she runs out the door.

Cato gulps audibly. It's only him and Alvara right now. Alvara doesn't seem to acknowledge his presence. Her eyes are still watering.

"Uhh…Alvara?" Cato inquires lightly. "I have something to tell you."

Alvara starts. "Yes, Cato?"

"Um, well, I'm worried that I'll never, um, get to say this, but, um, I like you." He finished breathlessly.

"I'm sorry?" Alvara's smile looks forced.

"Um, I like you." Cato stutters. "Like, like-like you."

"Oh, Cato." Alvara reaches over presses a kiss to Cato's cheek. "You're a sweet boy."

Cato feels his heart soaring in his chest despite the fact that he knows this is goodbye.

"Cato," Alvara presses on. "One day, you're going to fall in love with a girl and she's going to love you back."

"That's you." Cato clarifies.

"No, that's not me." Alvara says sadly.

"Why not?" Cato wants to sink down into the couch and maybe into the floor.

"Because I'm in love with somebody else."

"Who is it?"

"Cato, I can't tell you that."

"Why?"

Alvara regards him curiously. "If I tell you, will you promise me something?"

Cato doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

Alvara holds out her right hand. "Promise me that if I die, you'll take care of Echo."

"I promise." Cato takes her hand without any reluctance.

"You know the girl I volunteered for?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"Well, she's the one I love."

It's like you can almost hear your heart crack.

**Fourteen.**

It's been a year since Alvara's brutal death at the hands of a District 4 Tribute. It's been a year since Echo turned her back on the only family member who showed her any love. It's been a year and a year was all it took for Echo to change.

Cato is fourteen and learning quickly that a deeper voice and a bit of muscle goes a long way when dealing with girls. They just won't stop giggling when he walks by and he knows why. The other Careers admire him and ask for his advice on anything, from weapons to physical training. Cato is fourteen, handsome and talented.

Echo is fourteen and realizing that Cato was right when he said she had no friends. Girls whisper behind her back and make no effort to include her at school. Boys pay her no mind; she's no beauty like…_she_ was. The Career kids are even worse. To her face, they're rude and behind her back, they mock her lack of skills. She becomes fiercely strategic, almost devious; realizing that, strength and the ability to swing a sword will only get you so far. Echo is fourteen, painstakingly average and intelligent.

To everyone's utter astonishment, Cato and Echo's friendship ceases to dissolve, even in spite of Cato's popularity spike and Echo's invisibility.

Cato likes Echo; he considers her his best friend and tells her everything. In return, she refrains from verbally tearing him down and focuses her energy on reading. Lots of reading. Cato will never understand why and when he asks, all he gets in response is a guileful smile and a tap against his head.

Nobody understands their friendship and some of the more cruel people whisper that she's providing Cato with services that only a female can. Cato gets angry with these gossipers. Sure, Echo can be unnecessarily mean-spirited, but sometimes she has her caring moments.

Cato and Echo talk about many things, but one topic they never breach is Alvara. The memories are too fresh and Cato assumes that Echo has no desire to relive the moment when she walked out on her own flesh and blood. Cato has mastered the art of switching conversation topics when they venture too close.

Cato learns to trust Echo and he slowly gains her trust. And it's all too soon when the girl Cato thought he hated, becomes the person he treasures most.

_~becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~_

"You won't believe what I just heard about you."

Cato looks up from his (completely stupid) history assignment. Nearly every day, Echo goes over to his house after school and they do homework (or in her case, lounge around) before they go to Career training.

"Really," he drawls. "Tell me."

Echo smirks. She slides off his dresser and hops onto his bed.

"Hey!" Cato says, agitated. "I just made the bed!"

"Relax. I'll fix it later." Echo stays on his bed, but at least she stops jumping around. "Well," she continues, "I was minding my own business in the washroom and—"

"Echo," Cato chastises. "Were you eavesdropping?"

Echo sits up, an indignant look on her face. "It's not eavesdropping if the idiots—I mean girls—are practically yelling."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

There's no use in arguing with her. "Whatever," Cato relents. "Those girls you were listening in on were talking about me, weren't they?"

Echo slumps, disappointedly. "I guess you've already heard."

"No." Cato shakes his head. "Girls are always talking about me."

With a grand sweep of her arm, Echo declares in a broadcaster's voice, "Ladies, and gentlemen, Mr. Modesty himself."

Cato chooses not to get anger, knowing it would only make her laugh. "It's not bragging if I'm right." He imitates her little explanation from earlier. "Which I am."

"When did you get so cocky?"

Cato shrugs, indifferent. "I've always been like this. You just never noticed."

"No," Echo denies. "I'm a pretty observant person. You've never been this full of yourself."

Cato throws one of his fallen pillows at her, ignoring her squawk of surprise. "Can you do me a favour and just tell me what you heard?"

Echo gives him with a playful glare. "One of the girls in our class—school class—wants to go out with you."

"Is that it?"

"Uhh…yes." Echo nods slowly.

Cato turns back to his (stupid) homework. "What does she look like?" He inquires casually.

"Pretty, I guess." Echo says her interest firmly fixated on her finished homework scattered all over Cato's bedroom floor.

"Nah, I'm not interested." Cato declines, already losing interest in the topic.

"Really?" Echo questions. "Well too bad. I already promised an introduction." She mutters.

Cato stiffens and swings around. "What?" He nearly shrieks. "Why would you do that?"

Echo picks up one her messy papers, regarding it. "She agreed to do my homework for the next few days." She clarifies, not meeting his eyes.

"You could probably do a better job yourself!" Cato proclaims exasperatedly. "Echo, you're supposed to be my best friend! You can't just betray me like this!"

And Cato's best friend just lies down on his bed, her head hanging upside-down over the edge. "I never promised her a date," she mentions, her devious smile sinister even in the daylight. "Just an introduction." Her innocent smile is even worse.

"Did you do that thing where you confuse people by being overly wordy?" Cato isn't sure he wants to know her answer.

"S'not my fault she couldn't see through that." Echo defends.

"As much as I admire your manipulation skills, you can't do that." Cato berates.

"Oh, are you worried about her feelings?"

Cato grunts with what may have been laughter. "No, I couldn't care less." He admits, unashamed. "I just hate it when you do stuff like this."

"I thought you found it funny when I do stuff like it."

"It is," Cato agrees grudgingly. "When it's not involving me. Geez Echo. Why couldn't you have thought about someone else—like me—for a change?"

"I do think about you. You're the only person whose feelings I actually think about."

Silence engulfs them. Cato doesn't know if he's angry with Echo. She can be so irritating, but he does care about her. He hates it when they have little tiffs like this. Neither one of them will apologize first due to their massive pride.

"Are you mad at me?" Cato asks lightly.

"Depends," Echo replies. "Are you in the mood to apologize?"

"No, not really."

"Then I'm not mad," Echo says. "Are you mad at me?"

"A little," Cato confesses. "You shouldn't do stuff like that."

"Sorry," Echo apologizes, "I hate it when you're mad at me. But you should have seen the look on her face. It was like her birthday come early."

"You are so weird," Cato teases.

"That's why I'm your best friend." Echo rolls around in his bed, messing up his covers even more. Cato decides to make her fix it later.

"And you're a horrible person," he baits.

"Well jabberjays of a feather flock together," Echo quotes.

"Sometimes I hate you," Cato mocks.

"No you don't."

"Shut up, Echo."

…

…

"Cato, you've been staring at the same page for the past hour. If you needed help, all you had to do was ask."

**Fifteen.**

Even with the experience of having attended three reapings, Cato never quite rids himself of the nervous anticipation he always feels, except for the first time, he feels all of the anticipation and barely any of the anxiety.

Cato thinks this is a sign of growing up and maturing. He believes that by losing his fear of being reaped, he is becoming stronger. One day, he vows, I'm going to become a Victor.

Cato likes Victors' Village. He likes the exclusiveness, the stately houses with their neatly trimmed rows of bushes and cheery flowerbeds below the windows. He likes the looks of envy he gets whenever he is admitted entrance into the village. (Too bad he's only allowed in when Echo brings him along to visit her ailing grandpa).

Cato has never wanted anything so badly in his life.

At fifteen, Cato has severely disorganized priorities.

At fifteen, Cato's best friend is reaped to represent District 2 in the Seventy-First Annual Hunger Games.

_~becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~ _

"I haven't seen this room in a while."

Cato looks up from his calluses on the palm of his hand to watch Echo pace restlessly around the room.

"Well, not since—"

"Echo, we don't have to talk about that." Cato isn't exactly super keen on reminiscing about their previous experiences in this waiting room. In addition, Echo's always been a little tetchy about that topic and he hates talking about feelings.

"Who says we're going to talk about it?" Echo finally stops pacing and plops herself in one of the hideous, flowery armchairs. "I'm just making a casual observation."

"No you're not," Cato argues. "You're doing that girl thing."

"What girl thing?" Echo asks.

"The girl thing that girls do when they say they don't want to talk about something, but they don't actually mean it," Cato replies evenly.

"First off, I'm not doing 'that girl thing'," Echo retorts. "Secondly, where did you come up with all of that?"

Cato snorts. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I do have a lot of other friends."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"A lot of my friends are guys," Cato says. "Not saying that I don't have a lot of girlfriends."

"Your point being?" Echo interrogates, already frustrated.

"A lot of my guy friends are older than me and have had girlfriends, so they know what girls are like."

Echo chuckles before slinging herself across the armchair so her legs dangle over one side. "A lot of your guy friends are idiots if they think they know what girls are like."

Cato lets that one slide. He and Echo have been best friends for a while and he knows that she, for some odd reason, gets a kick out of people's anger… especially if that anger is directed at her.

"What were we even talking about?" Echo mumbles. "I can't seem to focus today."

"We were talking about Alvara," Cato responds, frowning, as Echo seems to flinch at the name. "Did you really mean all those things you said?"

"All those things I said when?" Echo inquires, playing the ignorance card.

"When we were here with Alvara." Cato doesn't really know how Echo will react. On one hand, he would like to see her get some closure, but on the other hand, he wants to spend less time talking about others and more time saying his goodbyes.

Echo laughs hollowly. "I'm surprised you even remember any of that."

"Do you?" Cato challenges.

"Yes," Echo answers placidly.

"Do you regret it?" Cato presses.

"Would it make me a better person if I did?" Echo fidgets and seems to look everywhere but at him.

"I guess so."

"Then I don't know."

"You don't know whether or not you regret telling your sister you hated her while she was being marched off to her death." Cato reiterates.

"She knew what she was getting into," Echo counters, an edge in her voice. "Maybe I was a little harsh though," she adds in afterthought.

"Just a little?" Cato repeats. "I knew you were mean, but I didn't know how terrible you could be?"

To his immense relief, Echo doesn't lunge at him. He's not scared of her in terms of physical strength. He could easily contain her. He's more scared of her revenge. Echo is peculiarly good at executing complicated plots. Brutus says that that can be a useful tool, but not in the Games where nobody has much time to plan.

"Aren't you doing the same thing right now?" Echo is still, but Cato recognizes the shaking of her hands as her flight or fight reflex. "That's awfully hypocritical of you."

"You shouldn't judge me like that," Echo continues, clasping her trembling hands together. "I thought we were friends."

"We are friends," Cato reassures her. "I don't know why you keep doubting that."

"Because you keep doing stupid things."

"Like what?"

"Like abandoning me to go hang out with your 'other guy friends' or forgetting that we always walk home together from Career training or that one time when you decided that going out with some girl was more important than visiting my grandpa with me!"

"I'm sorry," Cato apologizes. Sure, Echo was exaggerating. He's only forgotten maybe once or twice.

"I'm sorry too," Echo bemoans quietly. "I know I can sometimes be a bad person. I try to be good sometimes, you know? But, people see me as the runt of the Career litter and that makes me angry and sometimes I just can't help it. It's so much easier to be mean than to ignore them."

"Well when you come back a Victor, they won't be calling you a runt anymore!" Cato declares cheerily.

"Cato," Echo directs his attention to her. "I'm not going to win."

"And how do you know that?" Cato wants Echo to win. He needs her to win.

"Cato, look at me." Echo sweeps her hand down her body.

Cato looks. Like, really looks at her. He decides that as a hormone driven fifteen year old, he likes what he sees. Echo is lithe and lean, thanks to the countless hours she devotes to training. Her dark hair and hazel eyes make her look innocent (but Cato knows she uses her demure appearance to con others).

"Compared to the other Career Tributes, I'm tiny." Echo groans. Cato shakes his head in disagreement. Echo isn't short, by any means, but the other Careers are unusually large.

"I can't use a sword or an axe," she continues, "they're too heavy for me. I can't aim an arrow to save my life. There's no way that I can kill someone by fighting him or her hand-to-hand. The only thing I'm good at is running away and hiding but that isn't going to kill anyone."

"Then run and hide," Cato states firmly. "And you can use a small knife." He wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she sees sense.

"Are you kidding me?" Echo starts running her shaky hands through her plaited knot of hair, messing it up.

"No!" He yells. "Hide until there's only two of you left."

"Even if I win, I'll never be welcomed back here with open arms." Echo leans her head back over the arm of the chair. "That's coward's victory," she laughs humourlessly.

"It's still a victory," Cato reaffirms. He doesn't care how she wins, she just needs to win.

"Cato, who am I fighting for?" Echo sighs. "Everyone hates me. My family never acknowledges me and I pushed away the only person who actually loved me. And then she died."

"You're going to hate me for saying this," Cato mutters, "but fight for me."

Echo sits up quickly and looks straight into his eyes. It's a little unnerving. "Elaborate."

"We're best friends." Cato gets sick of having to remind her of this all the time, but her insecurities occasionally get the better of her. "And I care about you more than anyone else."

Echo looks away from him. Cato can see that she's fighting a smile and the tips of her ears are bright red. She clears her throat pointedly and turns to him again, composed. "If I die," she articulates slowly, "would you cry?"

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate. (For some reason, this reminds him of another time he said yes with so much certainty.)

"Do you think it hurts?" Apparently, Echo is in a bit of an inquisitive mood. "To die, I mean."

"I don't know. It depends, I guess."

"Oh." Echo looks a little dejected, but she can't expect him to know the answer to that. "Do you think it was painful for Alvara?"

"I don't know," Cato responds vaguely, "probably." Alvara was beheaded by a Career from District 4 and while it did look painful, Cato doesn't really know.

Echo's eyes seem glassy, but she doesn't cry. She continues watching him, stony faced. "Do you think I'll win?" She asks, but it comes out sounding more like a statement.

"I hope so." Cato reaches for one her shaking hands and grasps it. "Echo, you have a chance. Don't be an idiot and screw it up just because you don't want to fight."

She snatches her hand away, cradling it against her chest. "I do want to fight!" She snaps. "Don't call me an idiot, idiot!"

"Glad to know you're still in there," Cato jokes, raps his knuckle lightly against the side of her head. He stands and opens his arms to give her a hug. "I suppose I'll miss you, but between all the girlfriends I have, it might be difficult." He jests.

Echo barrels into him, nuzzling her head into his stomach. He nearly falls back onto the chair.

"Shnks Cao," she murmurs, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"No problem, Echo." He pats her back and presses a kiss to the top of her head. At the contact, Echo lets go and examines him oddly. Placing her hand in the center of his chest, she pushes him back onto the chair.

"Hey Echo, what're you doing?" Cato questions nervously.

Echo ignores him, sitting on his lap while never taking her eyes off him.

"Echo," Cato's voice trails off, "feel free to let me know what you're doing."

"Just…" she whispers. "Just looking." She puts her hands on either side of his face and leans in close.

Cato studies her. He has never really noticed it before, but she has a sprinkling of small freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. From this angle, he can see the green in her eyes as they rove lazily over his face.

Echo closes the distance between them and very gently, she kisses him.

It's not steamy and passionate. There are no clashing tongues or groping hands. It's just a close mouthed kiss. Cato has had plenty of those.

However, he thinks he likes this one best.

Before he can take advantage of the opportunity and kiss her back, she pulls away and grins at him. "I'll always wondered what that felt like."

Cato sputters. "You mean you've always wanted to kiss me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Echo snorts, not quite meeting Cato's eyes. "I've always wondered what it felt like to kiss someone."

Cato tries to pull his arrogant act back together in order to hide his shock. "You've never kissed a boy before?"

Echo glares, the tips of her eyes glowing red. "Shut up."

"I can't believe you've never kissed a boy before."

"I said, shut up. It was a goodbye kiss. Plenty of people have done it."

"Hey," he placates, "I was just teasing."

"No you weren't," she scowls. "You were serious."

"Echo," he cajoles lightly. He touches his fist to her arm. "It's okay if you want to kiss me."

"Like I said," she scoffs, "don't flatter yourself. It was a one time thing."

Cato guffaws. "Whatever you say."

There's silence between them, but it isn't stifling. Cato takes her hand and holds it. "When you come back, we'll throw a huge party." He gives her hand a squeeze. She squeezes back.

"I'll miss you. You're really the only person I care about. You know that, right?" Echo utters softly.

"I know. I'll miss you too." Cato embraces Echo once more and with a lingering kiss on the crown of her head, he leaves the waiting room.

As he walks out, he glances back at her one last time.

He really hopes that she'll win.

(this will be the last time he sees her like this)

_ ~becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~_

Cato observes the Games with a critical eye. He pays special attention to the Caesar Flickerman interviews and watches the way that Echo enthralls the Capitol by playing the part of the beatific, naïve young girl.

Cato listens as each Tribute is given their training score. Out of twelve, Echo receives a five. It's not too terrible, but for someone who has been given as much training as she has, it's a little disgraceful.

Her District partner, Titus, is awarded a 10 for his strength and ability to throw a double-bladed axe.

Then, the Games start. The arena is made to look like an enormous rainforest. This year, Cato doesn't turn away when the Cornucopia begins. He watches, straight-faced, as many of the Tributes from other Districts are slaughtered. Echo sprints to the Cornucopia, grabbing an orange bag and a thick coil of rope as she disappears into the thicket of trees.

Titus contributes to several killings. By the end, he has struck up an alliance with the gorgeous Tribute from District 1, Diamond.

Cato is starting to worry about Echo. He watches the Games everyday, and there's barely any footage of her. Every time they show Echo, she's fiddling with the length of rope and large amounts of foliage. There's plenty of coverage of Titus and Diamond, though. Many speculate that they will be the final two, Titus with his axes and Diamond with her sword.

Diamond and Titus seem to be doing a majority of the killings. The strange part about it though, is that they find the Tributes so easily. Some of them must be really stupid, muses Cato, to leave a fire burning where the smoke can be traced.

Finally, on the third day, she reappears and her methods of murder come as a shock to everyone.

Echo is trapping the Tributes for someone else to kill. She's setting snares and hiding them with foliage, hoping that someone stupid enough will be caught in it. When they do, she lights a fire nearby so that the smoke is visible from far away.

Cato is impressed. It's an ingenious plan, innovative in method and crafty in execution. Through this strategy, Echo manages to help with the elimination of a few Tributes.

Cato watches in mild horror as the Capitol releases the muttations. Humanoid bat-like creatures with sharp fangs and large, pointed claws prowl around the arena, killing off anyone who isn't fast enough.

Echo makes her first actual kill. It's a Tribute from District 7 who's part of Titus and Diamond's group. She stabs the boy in the chest with a dagger she keeps on her belt.

Soon, it's down to three: Diamond from District 1 and both Tributes from District 2. Diamond and Titus are still locked in their alliance. Cato has a feeling that Diamond is using her feminine wiles to keep Titus in check. They search the arena for hours to locate Echo, but to no avail. She's fast and she isn't giving up her hiding spot. They eventually find her though.

Cato keeps his eyes on the screen, wanting to see Echo even if it's for the last time. Diamond laughs chillingly as Titus grabs Echo and hauls her by her armpits. He holds her tightly to ensure she doesn't get away. Diamond picks up a small blade off Echo's belt and twirls it, making it shine as it catches the light.

"Did you really think you could win?" She drawls. Echo whimpers as the blade comes closer to her face.

Then, Diamond slashes.

Echo's cry is loud and awful. There's a long gash on the right side of her face, extending from her forehead to her jaw. Her eye is a mess of blood.

"Hold her!" Diamond barks at Titus. "I don't want her to get away."

"Sorry kid," Titus says gruffly. "But you never really stood a chance."

"Please," begs Echo brokenly. "Please just kill me quickly. Don't let her torture me. Just end it quickly."

Titus looks at Diamond whose malicious snarl borders on insanity. "No way, little girl." She shakes her head. "You killed one of my boys."

"That's what I'm supposed to do," Echo cries. "I'm supposed to kill. It's kill or be killed."

"I don't care," Diamond screeches. "You go around acting like you're better than everyone else just because you're smart. I hate you and I'm going to kill you slowly."

Echo lifts her mutilated face. Tears are leaking out of her good eye, cascading down her face. She lets out a dry sob and drops her head.

Cato feels a sudden throbbing in his hands and knows he has clenched them far too firmly.

"Please don't hurt me so much!" She weeps. "As least let me go. I promise I won't run away!"

"Diamond," Titus looks at her. "She isn't going to run. Just let her stand."

"Fine," she concedes. "But watch her."

Titus lets Echo go and she slides to the ground sniveling.

"Titus, I'm going to get my," Diamond commands. "I have no use for this puny knife. This is for a child." She drops the knife to the ground and turns her back on Echo. That is her fatal mistake. Echo's head snaps up, the unblemished part of her face fixed in a furious expression. She lunges for Diamond and tackles her to the ground.

Titus guffaws in surprise and crosses the small clearing in a few steps. He picks Echo up as if she weighs no more than a cat.

"Kill her!" Diamond stands unsteadily, her hair a mess and scratches on her arms. "Kill her! Do it now!" She shrieks.

Titus grabs at his belt for his knife, but he can't seem to find it so he picks up the dagger Diamond dropped and holds it to Echo's neck.

"Titus," Echo states smoothly. "Don't kill me."

"Shut up!" Diamond yells hysterically. "Kill her, Titus!" Her voice drops to a more seductive pitch, "Kill her, and I'll make it worth your while."

"No she won't, Titus." Echo contradicts. "Eventually, she's going to have to kill you."

"That's not true!" Diamond gasps in outrage. "Titus, you know how I feel about you!"

Cato scoffs to himself. At least he now knows how Diamond has been getting Titus to do all the dirty work.

"She doesn't care about you at all," Echo refutes. "Think about it, Titus. Whom would you rather have as competition? Her or me?"

Titus looks completely conflicted.

"Kill her! What are you waiting for, you great oaf?" Diamond's voice is shrill and completely livid.

"Titus, kill her." Echo says slowly. "If you kill her, then it's only me left. Do it as an act of mercy. If you love her, then kill her quickly."

Titus drops Echo. She tumbles to the ground and lays still, eyes following his movements. He makes his way over to Diamond who's backing up as quick as she can.

Echo covers her ears, but her remaining eye watches as Titus grabs Diamond by her silvery hair and slits her throat. He throws the dagger into the trees as the dead girl slumps over and the cannon sounds.

Now there's only two left. Titus walks over to Echo and proceeds to pull her up. Echo stands up woozily, one hand hidden behind her back.

"I'm sorry, Titus." Echo's face is remorseful.

"What are you talking about?" Titus looks confused for a second, but then comprehension dawns on him. He tries to defend himself but he has no weapon. Echo pulls out a knife from behind her back. It's Titus' knife.

"You took that from my belt." He accuses. "Are you going to kill me with it?" The question comes out as a statement.

"I promised someone I'd win," Echo says softly.

Cato watches with baited breath as Echo drives the knife into Titus' chest.

The last cannon sounds.

**Sixteen.**

The first time Cato sees Echo after the games, he nearly recoils. Her face is ravaged and the gash has scarred, leaving a long thin mark that covers the right side of her face. Even more horrifying is her fixed eye. While her left eye is a normal hazel, the right is an artificial golden hue. The Capitol has taken the courtesy of mending it, giving her slightly enhanced vision.

Despite her fearful appearance, Cato is more than ecstatic to have her back, but he finds himself training more and more everyday to ready himself. He finds himself enjoying the strain, craving that adrenaline rush he gets when locked in combat. Most of all, he grows addicted to the power of being able to end a person's life.

However, the rest of the District doesn't seem to share his enthusiasm in Echo's return. Many are angry with her for betraying her partner and others see her as a coward. Echo is ostracized even more than before.

Cato doesn't really believe that Echo is suffering too much. She is, after all, a Victor. When you're as important as she is, nothing else really matters.

Echo has changed, though. She's become bitter and distrustful; the Games hardened her into a cold, shrewd fighter. Gone is her gentle teasing and frequent displays of intelligence. Now, she broods and keeps quiet unless she is with Cato, or her mentor, Brutus.

As a sixteen year-old, Cato views himself as a boy on the cusp of manhood. He isn't deaf. He hears the other boys talking in the locker rooms. He listens to their conversations and becomes privy to their many sexual exploits. Cato tires of his virginity, he wants to experience sex and be able to brag about it like the others.

When the older boys hear of his dilemma, they offer to set him up with a girl of his liking.

It shouldn't be difficult to get a girl, they tell him. You're good looking and a Career. Girls flock to that, they divulge.

Cato isn't sure that he wants a random girl. He'll never say it aloud, but he wants to have sex with someone who knows him well and will appreciate him. Oddly enough, the first person to pop into his head is Echo. She'll never agree to have sex with him, though. She's probably someone who wants her first time to be special with flowers, dim lighting, and a fancy dinner.

It all happens accidentally. Echo is feeling down one particular day, a combination of the nightmares that she tries not to tell Cato about and the public humiliation she endured at the hands of some cruel girls from school.

Cato comes home from training that day, only to find that his parents are away for the weekend and Echo sitting primly on his bed. When he gets over his surprise of seeing her there, he joins her. She sighs lowly and rests her head on his shoulder. Cato feels odd, as if there's a swelling in his chest. He maneuvers their bodies and kisses her slowly. It takes her a while, but she eventually responds in kind. That night, they lose their virginities to each other.

After, they don't talk for a week.

_~becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~_

The door slams and Cato gives a jump in surprise. No one has a key to his house, but Echo.

"Why are you avoiding me?" She stands right the entrance to the sitting room, her voice loud. Cato cringes inwardly from his place on the sofa and praises the fact that it's a weekday and his parents are still at work.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He responds evenly.

Echo all but shouts, "I'm talking about you fucking avoiding me, you prick!"

"What are you even going on about?" Cato delivers as monotone as he can.

"Are you fucking blind?" Echo's hackles rise.

"No, that's you." Cato knows it's harsh, but he's not in a good mood and he can't quite resist saying it.

"I'm not blind, you prick." Echo scoffs rudely.

"You have one eye. It's almost the same thing," Cato reasons.

"I have two eyes," Echo snaps, "and shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you."

"Like you did last week, hm?" Cato leers.

"This," Echo points a finger at him, "is precisely why I did not want to talk to you."

"Then, don't," Cato points out. "Although, I don't blame you for coming." He smiles to himself at the innuendo.

"What?" Echo is stupefied for a second. "Ew, you fucking pervert, that's disgusting."

Cato guffaws. If she wants to play this game, so be it. "Well it certainly didn't seem to bother you last week."

"You," she bellows, "are impossible. You lose your virginity and all of a sudden, your ego is the size of the Capitol."

"All of a sudden, I have bragging rights," Cato shoots back impatiently. He winces to himself at the spitefulness of the statement, but he's tired and in no condition to deal with her moods.

"Insensitive prick!" She yells and flings the nearest object at his head. Lucky for Cato, he easily dodges the book.

"Hey, I'll have you know that it's very sensitive," he taunts lecherously. "Not that you don't already know."

"Can you please be serious about this?" Echo implores. Her shoulders slump and she looks awfully dejected.

"What is there to be serious about?" Cato ponders. Truth be told, he doesn't understand the reasoning behind this confrontation.

"Well…we had sex." Echo looks down at her feet, the tips of her ears looking slightly pink. "And now you're avoiding me."

"It's not a big deal," Cato admits.

"What's not a big deal?" Echo asks, sounding more curious than angry.

"Everything."

"Mind being a little less fucking cryptic?" Echo hisses.

Cato breathes out heavily. Sometimes, he thinks, Echo can be aggravating. But that's probably why he likes her so much. "I'm not avoiding you."

"Oh really?" Echo inquires doubtfully.

"I just didn't know how you would react," Cato answers.

"So you thought that avoidance was the best tactic?" She challenges. The scar on her face makes her look a lot more intimidating than she usually is.

"You're exaggerating," Cato justifies, "I was giving you space. You were the one avoiding me." He watches her as she stands near a side table. He idly wonders how hard she can throw a lamp.

"I was not!" She protests, bafflement taking over her features.

"Fine," Cato throws his hands up in the air. Echo is clearly itching for an argument and he doesn't want to be the one to satisfy her (he's already done his job). "We were avoiding each other." Cato figures that if both of them are at blame, she can't really fight that.

"Oh," Echo seems a little disappointed. "Well, sorry for that," she clears her throat awkwardly. "It's just that after everything that's happened, I don't have too many people who care about me and I was scared that I managed to push you away and—"

"Echo," Cato interrupts firmly. "It's nothing to freak out over. Like you said, we had sex."

"That is exactly what I'm freaking out," Echo admits.

"The sex?" Cato gestures crudely.

Echo ignores his vulgarity. "I feel like I've ruined something."

"No, no, it's…fuck." Cato runs his hands through his hair. "You didn't ruin anything. We're still best friends, no matter how many times we fuck."

At this, Echo walks over to his sofa and sits down. "Do you promise?" She presses.

"Yes, I promise," Cato assures her. She scoots over, very close to him and rests her head on his shoulder. In turn, he drapes an arm over her body.

"Good," she remarks casually. "Because I want to keep doing it."

"Being best friends?" Cato shifts his body weight so they're both sitting comfortably.

"That goes without saying," Echo speaks up.

"So you're saying that you want to keep doing…it?" Cato asks. He hopes his voice didn't crack in his enthusiasm.

"Well, that amongst other things."

"Like what? Do tell."

Echo pinches his waist. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

"Yeah," Cato chuckles mischievously, "but I want you to say it."

Echo reaches up with grabs Cato by his hair. She pulls his face close to hers, golden eye glowing sinisterly, and utters in a low voice, "I want to be the only girl that you think about having sex with." She presses a chaste kiss to his lips and releases her hold on his head.

Cato chortles nervously as the desire to cross his legs becomes strong. "That's one way of asking someone out." He cajoles. "Can't say I hate it though."

"Well?" Echo cocks her head. "Don't make me say it again."

This time, Cato initiates the kiss. It's deeper and as he raises a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, she moves to crawl into his lap. Soon the need for oxygen becomes overwhelming and he is forced to pull away.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this." He says quietly.

"A relationship with an insecure, raging bitch?" Even in the most intimate of moments, Echo is still Echo.

"Only if that bitch is you."

**Seventeen.**

At seventeen, Cato feels as if his life is already at an end. He's found the girl whom he thinks he'll spend the rest of his life with. He's the best Career, regardless of age groups. He's popular amongst all his peers, both male and female, Careers, and classmates. His parents are proud of his achievements and constantly brag about him to their friends. What more can he do? It's as if he's done more in seventeen years than most people have done in a lifetime.

So, Cato contemplates volunteering. It occupies his thoughts when he isn't with Echo (because she can be a bit distracting). His fantasies of being crowned Victor are becoming more vivid each day. He can almost hear the crowds cheering his name.

The only thing holding him back is Echo. He hasn't talked to her about it, but Cato can imagine that she, of all people, won't be too keen on his volunteering. Truthfully, he fears that if she disapproves and forbids him from volunteering, he'll probably listen to her. Sometimes, when he thinks about having to leave Echo, being a Tribute doesn't feel so desirable.

There'll be moments when Cato feels scared. During training, he feels this _rush_, almost like he enjoys the fighting. When he mock-spars, he sometimes has hold himself back to prevent from smashing someone's face in. Cato is terrified of losing his temper, but when he's in control, it feels amazing.

The ability to decide whether someone will live or die is a powerful thing and Cato is starting to believe that he's ready for it.

_~becauseintheend,we'reallsoldiers~_

"So, you went all out in training today," Echo mentions idly. She and Cato sit on the porch of her house in Victors' Village.

"Not really," Cato's voice rumbles as he flings an arm around Echo shoulders, prodding her to lean into him.

"Cato," she chastises, "you broke someone's arms and would have broken more limbs if Brutus hadn't intervened."

"We were sparring. Accidents happen."

Echo exhales noisily. "Just," she seems to grasp at words, "just don't let your anger get the best of you, okay? That can be a dangerous thing."

"Did you let your anger get the best of you?" Cato inquires.

"When?"

"In the Games."

"I tried not to," Echo admits, "but sometimes I did."

"Like during your fight with Diamond," Cato confirms. His curiosity is starting to eat away at him.

"Even before that," Echo shoots down his claim. "I managed to make myself into Public Enemy No. 1 in her eyes."

Cato wants to laugh, but he doesn't want to sound like a jerk. "How'd you accomplish that?"

"Second day of training," Echo clarifies. He tenses up slightly in his arms as he continues her trip down memory lane. "She made fun of me for my lack of spear throwing skills, so I called her a dim-witted, sparkle-obsessed bimbo who probably couldn't differentiate between two ends of a sword, and if she won the Games, it would be because she slept with the Gamemakers."

"That's harsh," Cato winces. He won't say it aloud, but the mention of a girl fight is exactly the kind of thing that churns his motor. Or any fight, actually. He won't discriminate. "Wish I was there to see the look on her face."

"You should've heard what she was saying about me even before I flipped out at her," Echo snorts in an undignified manner.

"Is this something I want to know?"

"No, but I'll give you a hint. She may have mentioned my sister and how I might just end up like her," Echo discloses airily.

"Ahh," Cato nods. "So the name-calling was necessary."

Echo smiles up at him. The bright golden eye is still slightly fearsome, even after almost two years of trying to get used to it. "And that is why I like you so much," she murmurs before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Cato responds in kind, kissing her soundly on the mouth.

The two say nothing for awhile, the only sounds coming from the slow creaking of the swinging bench. Cato interrupts the silence.

"What would you say if I told you that I wanted to volunteer?"

"For the Hunger Games?" Echo's brows furrow. "What do you think I would say?"

Cato watches her expression. Her eyes seem unreadable, but since the operation, they've always been. He chooses his next words carefully. "You'd probably freak out, wouldn't you?" Oh well. He's never really been one for cautious thinking.

"No," Echo chimes, "I wouldn't."

"Why not?" Cato nearly sputters in shock.

"This may come as a surprise," Echo announces with conviction, "but I have a lot of confidence in you."

"So you wouldn't care if I went." Cato is feeling conflicted. On one hand, he's certain that he has her approval, but on the other, it would be nice to have someone worry about him.

"Of course I would care," Echo addresses his unspoken fears. "I just wouldn't worry a whole lot."

"Do you believe I could win?" This question is more rhetorical than anything else. Cato knows he's more than capable of winning, he just wants to know what Echo thinks.

"If I didn't, do you think I'd be reacting the way I am?"

"Because I'm going to volunteer," Cato asserts. "I know I can win." He's not sounding arrogant, he's being truthful.

Echo doesn't respond. She looks down at their clasped hands and leans against him heavily.

"I thought you said that you wouldn't mind," Cato says, a little more softly this time.

"I don't mind," Echo replies. "It's just that the reaping is so soon."

"Then when do you suggest I volunteer?"

"You still have one more year," she muses. "Spend this year with me and volunteer next year." She flushes slightly at the meaning behind her statement.

"What if I get reaped?" Cato questions. She's made a good point, but nothing is ever set in stone.

"Then you'll have to go," she mutters resignedly. "I'll be your mentor so you have nothing to worry about," she promises. "No matter what, I'll find a way for us to be together."

Cato kisses her soundly and they stay locked in their embrace. For that instance, the Hunger Games is a faraway thought and they're just two seventeen year olds basking in the company of each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on hers. "I love you."

She looks up at him with mismatched eyes. "I love you, too."

**Eighteen.**

When Cato is eighteen, he will stare into the grey eyes of Death and for a moment, it isn't Katniss Everdeen nocking the arrow, but Echo.

In that split second before she lets go, Cato sees Echo. Like, really sees her.

Her mismatched eyes, one hazel-green and the other a bright gold, tainted by the Capitol.

The long, thin scar stretching from forehead to jaw.

The tiny freckles that dot the bridge of her nose.

The dimple in her left cheek, the unscarred, unblemished side of her face.

The way she grasped his hand when she was scared and how tightly she held on.

How she liked to pretend she was tougher than she really was.

How her terrible attitude and treatment of others stemmed from her insecurities regarding her apparent lack of social graces.

The private smiles she gave to only him, especially when they were alone.

And her voice when she told him, "I love you."

And when the twang of bowstrings is heard and the arrow rushes to meet its mark, Cato hears her voice.

She's telling him, "I love you."

It echoes.

And somewhere far away, a girl drops to her knees, mouth opened in a soundless scream.

**Epilogue.**

Much later, after the Rebellion, after the Mockingjay, after the deaths of Coin and Snow, Echo will return to District 2 a battle-scarred survivor. Cato would have died a long time ago, and yet she will see him everywhere.

Therefore, she will leave and go to District 12.

She could use the company anyway.

Soon, she'll start to pick the pieces up.

Bit

by

bit.

* * *

Reviews please! The first time this was posted, I got a bunch of hits, but no reviews. I love all kinds of feedback.

**EXPLORATION OF ECHO  
**Let's be honest here. She is not someone I would want to be friend with. Cunning and intelligence are her two greatest weapons and she has no qualms in manipulating them. I think the Games would have changed her, though. Less petty cruelty and more world-weary. (I understand that the Hunger Games wiki says Johanna Mason was either in the 71st or 72nd Games, but for the sake of my timeline, let's say that Johanna won the 72nd Games.)

**COMMENTARY ON CATO  
**It took him a while to become Brutal!Cato. I don't see him as someone who was brutal since the day he was born or something. For me, it's more of a gradual thing. Maybe it was his self-confidence regarding uhhh...killing? Maybe he enjoyed the power rush that some serial killers get when they know they hold your life in their hands (I read a lot of creepy books like that, I'm not a serial killer). Whatever it was, it wasn't overnight and I wanted to show that growth.

If you've made it all the way down here, good on you!


End file.
